Resident Gleevil
by EfThe1
Summary: "It's been exactly three months since the virus struck Lima. The cities are just lone, dust-filled remains of what the dream used to be, not one single memory of the last time we came here". Unholy Trinity in a Zombie Apocalypse.
1. New York: A Soundless Nightmare

**RESIDENT GLEEVIL**

September 14, 2015

**Location**: Somewhere in New York.

**Time**: 10:21 am.

_Diary Entry #1,_

_It's been exactly three months since the virus struck Lima. The cities are just lone, dust-filled remains of what the dream used to be, not one single memory of the last time we came here. We all wonder how long it'll be until one of us falls, until one of us dreadfully gets contaminated by the T-Virus. Brittany is more optimistic, she always is. She has high hopes that somehow, we are all immune to this dreadful, life-consuming disease. If only things were that simple. Quinn isn't as positive - she's always on watch, aware - she hasn't quite slept soundly these past couple of months. She misses her family, she misses Puck. _

_ I wonder if we'll ever find a way out of this, if we'll find that town we have been hearing over the radio. "We offer security, food, and water. I repeat, there is no contamination". Brittany repeats these lines daily, to give us hope, some flicker of optimism, to reassure us that somehow we'll be okay. At least I'm glad I didn't lose her, like we lost the others. Mercedes, Tina, Lauren, Mike - they were the first ones gone. We haven't heard any news about Finn, Rachel, Sam, or Puck - I'm dreading the day we realize they probably are walking around with the wave of the living dead, just like every other person we loved is. _

_ But if I'd lost her, I don't know what I would have done. I probably would have thrown myself into a mass of zombies, just because I know I can't live without her. Not now especially. My goal is to protect her. I'm determined to make her live as long as possible, even if I do falter first. Quinn knows Brittany is my priority, she knows that if I go first, she has to make sure to keep her safe. She deserves much more than this life. _

_Desperately seeking refuge,_

_Santana Lopez._

The sound of the SUV resounds in your ears, waking you up from unconsciousness. You wake up scared, you're immediately alert, but it only takes Brittany's reassuring hand for you to sigh in relief. You're pretty sure you haven't gotten sleep in a long time and surprisingly, you're used to it. You only roughly need two hours of sleep daily to be able to function, because the sleeping hours you are supposed to get, you give them to Brittany. Selflessly, you let her take your other 5 hours of sleep because you want to protect her. She doesn't patrol as much as you do, and when she does, you're at her side, or Quinn is - but when you're not with her, you don't sleep peacefully, you are always afraid Quinn will let one of those dead bastards slip by, you're afraid she won't be able to run fast enough, or shoot the ghoul on the head correctly. You're afraid the living corpse will attack whom you've been protecting since day one. So you wake up every twenty minutes, just to make sure she's okay, safe, still yours. Quinn looks at you through the review mirror while she holds onto the steering wheel. She gives you an apologetic smile before turning her attention to the road again. "We avoid Manhattan?"

You rub your eyes and look up. "And the Bronx, Brooklyn, Upper West Side - pretty much anywhere there is a vast amount of population. We need to get there quickly Quinn".

"I know. We will". She tries to reassure you but her voice fails her. She isn't as hopeful.

You sit up, and her arms instantly go around you, the only arms that help you maintain your sanity. You lean into the embrace and close your eyes. "San?" She asks you, and she immediately has your attention.

"Yeah B?"

"I'm so hungry". She comments and does that pout, the pout that makes you forget just for a second the situation you are currently living in. You smile warmly at her and nod.

"I know B, hold on". You wiggle out of her arms, feelings foreign instantly - her arms are the only thing that feels like home - and you lean towards the back of the car. "We have Doritos, Lays, smores, marshmallows, twinkies, snack packs... What do you want B?"

You know Brittany probably has that frown on her face and it makes you smile again - the frown that motions she is struggling to think. "Doritos will be okay, I'm in a mood for something salty right now". You're glad she helps maintain a sense of normalcy in your life. If it were Quinn and you alone, you'd probably go crazy. Brittany is the only one who makes you forget that you are fighting for your life every minute of every passing hour.

"Shit". Quinn curses, hitting the breaks and making the Doritos fly out of your hand. You curse inwardly but Brittany is already reaching for them, but you're panicking.

"What?" You say and look forward. It's instantly obvious why she's cursing and then you curse out loud. "Mother fuckers".

The sound of Brittany letting the Doritos fall on the seat startles you and you instinctively reach for her hand. You clasp your fingers with hers tightly and close your eyes. "We'll be fine B, I promise. I'll keep you safe".

But they've already noticed your presence and they're coming at you, one by one, in a wave of unlimited undead bodies. Quinn's already backing up but she could never quite handle the reverse gear. She's trying to make the car turn around and you curse internally again, because you were pretty sure this was the one way out of New York.

"Open the roof". You command.

"You're insane Santana!" Quinn yells and Brittany clings onto your hand tighter. You swallow.

"Open the damn roof; it's the only way out of here!" You are nearly crying because you're losing hope with the second.

Quinn clings onto the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. She takes a deep breath and presses the button.

"S…" Her voice calls, Brittany is looking at you with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere B, stay down here". And you hope you're right.

You're accustomed to being the brave one, always taking a stand first. It's in your nature, you don't back off, you never back down. So you reach for the AKA-47 that you and Quinn managed to steal from a weapon shop and slide up on the roof of the car. You groan at the heaviness of the gun and lean it against the roof, glad you are an expert on loading guns now. You hold a couple of bullets in your mouth and you feel Brittany's hand touching your calf from under you. She's worried about you; she doesn't want you to do this. But you have to. "I love you Britt". You tell her, just in case, and you slide out. Your feet are firmly placed on the roof of the massive Land Rover and you kneel down. The bullets shoot out in frenzy and you have to concentrate not to fall back. And you watch the bastards fall, one by one, and you watch them topple over each other when Quinn hits the breaks.

"Santana, it's not enough!" She yells and you curse. But it's Brittany's voice that makes you see rationally.

"San, please, come back down!" She's pleading you, you can almost picture the tears in her eyes and you give in, letting yourself fall back on the seat from the top with a thud. You sigh and cover you face with your hands.

"Get out of the drivers seat". You tell Quinn in a monotone voice and she grips the steering wheel tighter. She grits her teeth because she probably feels useless. "Fuck Quinn, off the driver's seat, _now_!" She obeys though and she climbs on the passenger seat. You place a hand on Brittany's cheek before sliding into the driver's seat. "I wasn't raised in Lima Heights for nothing". You mumble, back the car a couple of hundred-yards away before you hit the accelerator.

The car shoots forward and the numbers in the speedometer rise slowly. 40…50…70…85…100….120… There's adrenaline pumping through your veins and with your jaw set tight. "Britt, hold on tight". You're sure Quinn is offended you didn't include her, but she understands and holds on too. Brittany shuts her eyes tightly right before impact.

The bodies begin to topple over the car, one by one. They roll from the hood, to the roof, and down on the street. They're now a dismembered mass of nothingness and you can't believe this actually worked.

"Oh my God…" Quinn comments. "It worked".

Brittany however is wide-eyed and you can't understand why. It's not until she panics that you turn and see the reason. There's one of those bastards hanging from the door and Brittany's scream resounds in the car.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" You repeat and hit the breaks. It works though, the ghoul flied off into the pavement, but naturally, gets back up to walk to the car. "Shit…"

But Quinn reacts, opens the door and slams it right on the face of the mother fucker. He stumbles back, and you're surprised to see he doesn't fall. "They're fucking immortal".

"Of course they are Quinn! What part of living dead don't you understand?"

In the midst of arguing there's a gun shot and suddenly, your mouth is gaping. Brittany is holding the hand gun through the window, there's a hole from the perfect head-shot Brittany managed to shoot from the Desert Eagle. She's breathing rapidly and then she looks at you. She lets the gun fall on the floor of the car and she sits back.

"Just drive S, please". She tells you and you nod, closing your eyes while the car shoots forward. You roll the window up and look at Brittany through the mirror. She tries to smile but it fails her in her eyes. She hates shooting, she hates this, she hates the violence that comes with this – you can only imagine how hard this is for her. And she closes her eyes too before she speaks up. "We'll talk later, I promise".

You nod and let the few minutes of silence drown the car.

"And by the way Santana, you were raised in Lima Heights _Adjacent_, that's the nice neighborhood in Lima. They have a gate for you to come through, there's even paid security. You used to ride your pink Barbie bike around the neighborhood when you were little".

And Brittany giggles from the back while she lies on the seat. You roll your eyes and grumble. "Whatever". And for that moment, everything is slightly normal again.


	2. Vermont: Returning Hope

**A/N: Story alerts make me smile, and so do reviews. But reviews make me want to write more and more. :) I'm glad you guys approve of this fic, those who story alerted and the 3 who reviewed :P**

**I'm just going to give a run down on how I work with the Unholy Trinity: For Santana I write in second person because I feel it's more personal, and I lay her feelings better like that. Quinn will be in first person, and Brittany in 3rd (since we haven't gotten a glimpse inside her mind in Glee yet).**

**Enjoy :)**

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><p>September 16, 2015<p>

**Location: **Unknown

**Time: **2:34 pm

_Diary Entry #2,_

_The days pass by and we think we're getting closer to cross the border from the US to Canada. Brittany and Santana are hopeful, at least, as hopeful as Santana can be; that we won't run out of gas before we make it through. There are enough gas stations along the way and we got a supply at least, but it doesn't change the fact that we don't know if the gas will last until we get to Alaska. _

_I can't help thinking back at our high school years, how easy things were back in Lima. Sometimes, I regret coming to New York, the virus wouldn't have struck as quickly back in Ohio as it did here. Maybe we would have found time to find refuge, some way out. But the fact that we are daily fighting for our lives isn't the worse part; it's losing those you love. Three months ago was the last time I heard from Puck, we planned on escaping together, all of us, even Finn and Rachel. After losing the rest, we knew that if we didn't react soon, all hope would be lost. But he never came back. It kills me to think that he probably is walking with the mass of living dead, that I can't see his face again, kiss him one more time and tell him I love him. At least I'm glad Santana and Brittany have each other. I know they keep each other mutually sane – it would have been worse for Santana to lose Brittany._

_Santana has been more commanding and alert than usual, especially after the incident two days prior. She knew we could have died right then and there and she's more determined to protect Brittany. As selfish and it sounds, I'm jealous. I know Santana will go to any heights to protect Brittany and Brittany will do anything for Santana. I wish there was someone willing to protect me. Even though we've always been just the three of us, it doesn't change the fact that the bond, the love that Santana and Brittany share means that they're each other's priorities. _

_The city seems to get darker with the passing hours. The sky is no longer blue. We don't think we've seen a pure blue sky in at least two and a half months. It's a perfect setting for this nightmare. The worse part is that you never thought this was possible, not until it happens. Not until you hear it on the news about chaos happening. They never reveal the cause, they say the government will take care of it – but they never do. And before you know it, cities are no longer cities; they're crumbled masses and shattered buildings. People are not people, they are walking corpses. You dread the day that one of them bites you. _

_I want to be hopeful, I really want to. It's just hard, knowing you'll probably are the last remains of life in the planet._

_Someone to watch over me,_

_Quinn Fabray_

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><p>Brittany has the wheel this time; she's trying to focus on the road while grumbling about no radio stations working. Santana is sound asleep on the back seat of the car, I'm glad she's getting sleep, honestly, I was getting a little worried about her. It's funny how our lives have changed in these few passing months – we live on the moment, we plan ahead, we are extremely careful. Especially me, I try to remain sane, focused, and calm - despite the horrible situation we're going through. But sanity is not something that comes easy for me, at least, not yet. It's difficult to come to terms with all loses, everything that we miss, will miss – especially that last bit of sanity we're trying to hold onto.<p>

Believe it or not, I understand why Santana remains normal throughout this whole situation. Brittany is surprisingly calm and as sane as she can be. She makes conversation and really helps me forget just for a bit what we're trying to escape from.

"Q?" She asks me, startling me from my thoughts. I turn to look at her with a small smile on my lips.

"Hm?"

"Do you think we'll make it?" It's the most blatant question Brittany has asked me since this whole ordeal started and it shocks me. I would've thought Santana and her had talked about it.

"Yeah, I think so". I lie to her, I don't have the heart to tell her that there's a chance we won't make it through. But I had made a promise to Santana: Keep Brittany's hopes up at all times, regardless of the circumstance. Always reassure her, always.

"You're lying".

_When did she become so intuitive? _"What? No".

"You are…" She looks at me from the corner of her eye and she sighs. "Look, I know what we're going through. I know there's a chance we're going to die Quinn. We're not in high school anymore, maybe before I might have believed it, but it's hard to see the world like rainbows and unicorns anymore. Look around you, there's no color anywhere anymore…" She points outside the window and my gaze follows her fingers. "I know there's a big chance that we'll die".

"Britt…" I begin, frowning and reaching to touch her shoulder. I glance back at the seat, and I'm glad Santana is still asleep. She would be panicking if she knew what Brittany had been thinking about. And I realize I don't really have any other way to reassure her and I sigh. "I know B, I know. But, we have to hope… fight".

"I know". She interrupts me and she looks back at the seat, where Santana is sleeping. She looks at me with an apologetic smile. "I know she wants to protect me. But sometimes I wish she wouldn't. It's hard enough to know she'll die for me. I don't want her to die for me. I love her too much to lose her".

My lips press together in a tight, flat line. I'd never realized how smart Brittany truly was. Maybe it was the fact that she's older, perhaps because she has no optimism left in her. "Would you die for her too?" I ask her. Deep down I know the answer, but I sort of wanted to hear it aloud.

"Yes". And she says it so matter-of-factly that I close my eyes and sigh. "I'd die for both of you…" She continues and I turn to her again. I foreshadow what's next though, so it doesn't surprise me when she keeps commenting. "But for Santana, I… I'm sorry, I love her too much, if it ever comes down to her and you – I can't…"

"I understand". I interrupt her with a soft smile. I truly do understand; to love someone so much you'd give anything for them. "I know how much you love her. You don't have to apologize for wanting to save someone who is your soul mate".

And Brittany smiles my way again, reaching to rub my shoulder gently. "I'm so sorry about Puck, Q".

I flinch but nod slowly regardless. "Yeah, I am too". I fight the tears and Brittany stops talking, the silence not affecting the comfortableness of friends. "I just wish he was here".

Brittany takes a left and looks at me one last time, nodding her head once before she drives further along.

* * *

><p>I would have never expected to find some form of refuge, at least not for a couple of more days. But we'd managed to find this lonely cottage once we crossed states. Vermont was a little more peaceful than New York; we hadn't encountered as many ghouls as we did back in NY. But we had to thank Brittany for finding it – she had been here on vacation with her parents and managed to track down the house she had visited in that summer. I'm still impressed on the way she managed not to cry while talking about her family. She is stronger than I give her credit for.<p>

But paranoid Santana is inspecting. She instructs Brittany to stay behind, with me, while she risks her life by nearly kicking the door down. She's brave, really brave. It surprises me how she manages to do it without a hint of fear on her face, but I'm sure Brittany sees otherwise, almost as if she spots the fear in Santana's eyes that I fail to see when I look at her.

"It's clear, you guys can come in". Santana says, unloading her gun and sighing as she leans against the front door of the cottage. Brittany moves to wrap her arms around her body and in that moment I see it, how truly afraid Santana had been. It's heartbreaking, but so honorable at the same time. She had changed so much since High School. "I need a shower; I hate not having clean water anymore. It grosses me out".

"I know; me too". I comment back, meekly making my way through the door. I feel this sense of relief once I'm inside. It's definitely the homiest place we've been on in a while. It brings that normalcy back.

I miss the exchange that goes on in the background between Brittany and Santana, so it startles me when Santana speaks up. "I'm going to go unload things from the SUV, at least some stuff".

"No…" I interrupt, I hate feeling useless; I had felt useless for a while now. "Let me do it, you guys just stay here and I'll bring food and what not".

It surprises me when Santana actually complies and grabs Brittany's hand, pulling her to the couch in an embrace. I know it had been a while since they'd share any form of intimacy, not necessarily sexual, so I decide to give them a moment alone. I needed to clear my head anyways.

They don't notice me leaving and I'm walking alone in the dark, with nothing but a flashlight and a handgun on me. I trusted Santana enough to know that she had inspected thoroughly, so I was able to walk in the dark with a little more peace of mind than before – but it didn't mean I was unafraid. The walk wasn't that long though, and I find myself opening the back of the SUV, unloading a case with food, water, and a first aid kit. When I close the door of the SUV it echoes in the air, the _bang_ that it makes startling me. I could be so easily scared nowadays – it was becoming particularly annoying.

Soon, I'm walking back to the homey cottage, holding the food bag with my mouth while my hands carry the rest of the items. This would have been so much easier with one more person. That way, we could go in pairs, always make sure we have a partner. But only us three, there was always one of us who bounded up alone – it was never Brittany though.

It's not long before I start slowing my steps, there's a shuffling noise going around and I drop the things on the ground. My ears, eyes, and legs are instantly alert, looking out for any potential form of danger.

Then there's that moaning noise.

That sound that scares me shitless.

It resounds in my ears for what seems like hours.

_Shit._

I guess Santana had not inspected outside well enough because I'm reaching for the gun that's strapped to my pants. But once I spot it, I start to panic. It was always step one in this compromising situation. Panic, think, react. My feet start dragging me back, my flashlight falls on the ground and I no longer have visibility. _Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

The shuffling noise gets closer, I can spot the bent foot coming at me – it drags across the floor, leaving a trail the size of the zombie's foot. My hands are failing me – I'd never faced one of them alone. It's moving slow, and I don't know why I find myself running. I try not to make any noise, but the moaning is suddenly right behind me, to my side, and in front. And I scream.

"_Santana! Brittany!" _It pierces, echoes in the air, and I know I've made a mistake. I just gave my position away, and I'm surrounded. The flashlight rolls towards me, pointing right on the face of one of them. It comes at me quickly; it's green, white, purple, a mixture of colors of rotten flesh, coagulated blood, and that putrid smell that comes with it. They're walking, rotten bodies.

I don't hear anyone running to help, I realize it's because I'm actually pretty far away from the cottage. God knows why we parked so far away. My hands finally find the gun, I don't know where to run, left, right, back, forward. I'm pretty sure I'm surrounded. And I swallow, I try and swallow the life consuming fear and shoot. It hits the knee and he falls on his knees, but not before getting back up and continuing his journey for my flesh. _That's it, I die today. _

I don't know why I begin shooting recklessly, but I do, and it actually seems to work. A couple of seconds later I hear that familiar thud of one of the living corpses fall on the ground, picking up dust from where it fell. Then another one, and another one.

And the moaning is gone.

I'm safe.

I sigh in relief now, putting the gun back in its holder. My body bends to grab the bags.

It's not until I feel an arm around my neck that I scream again and drop the bags.

I fight against it. My whole body is pushing back, trying to prevent those sets of teeth to sink into my neck. I squirm, push back. The zombie stutters back and I realize I hadn't put the gun in its case correctly. It grabs me again and I'm fighting, fighting for the last seconds of life.

"Quinn! Hold on!" Santana's voice resounds through the field, but I know she won't make it in time. She's trying to find a way to see through the dark but she can't. I give up all hope, so much that I don't hear the sound of an engine. It's roaring, familiar. There's a screech and suddenly I'm not fighting, arms aren't around me anymore, I'm not being choked. The sound of the shotgun rings in my ears, while I skid around to find the ghoul terminated – no head, immobile.

Santana gasps, finally retrieving the gun from the ground and directs it towards the source. I turn around and he's there.

His breathing is rapid; his jaw is set tight, his Mohawk definitely disheveled and longer than usual. The familiar black motorcycle roars throughout, there's a shotgun in his hand, and he loads it one more time before sighing in relief.

"Puck…" I whisper.

And I run.

I run to his arms and wrap them tightly around his neck. I'm crying before I even know it. He's alive, just when I had lost all hope he saves me.

"Quinn…" He whispers back, his arms wrap around me so tightly I feel normal again. It feels like home.

I don't hear Santana and Brittany approaching until I feel both of their arms around us.

He didn't break his promise.

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><p><strong>If you have suggestions, I'm 100% open to them. :) Review button right below. xoxo<strong>


	3. Vermont Part II: Promises

**_Brittany_**

_September 16, 2015_

**Location: **Vermont

**Time: **8:54 pm

_Diary Entry #3,_

_I remember when all this started. I remember it like it was yesterday. You never expect these things to happen, a disease that spreads throughout the whole world; a vile contamination that consumes the world in a matter of a few years. It seems impossible, even in my now non-existent gullible mind, that there would be such a thing. The worse part is, it's all over the news, the television, the internet, and you never pay attention to it. Why? The simple fact that at the end of every entry about this virus there was this line: '_The president requests complete calm. The government will take care of the situation before it gets out of hand'_. I guess we've all been trained to accept brain-washing. _

_There were so many signs of how quickly the virus was spreading. I can recall watching CNN with Santana one time at our dorm: 'There are forty-five new cases of the virus reported throughout the US. The numbers are not alarming. We've been informed that the Health and Science department are already developing a cure and a vaccine for the so called: T-Virus. In a matter of a few weeks, things will be back to normal'. And I can also remember the way Santana rolled her eyes and dropped the remote on the table._

_'Stupid government. I bet they're trying to protect themselves, I bet the cure is already out there and they're just trying to make all of the 'important people' safe first. Bull shit'. _

_She was partially right. Last thing we heard before the propagation of the virus got completely out of control was that a government official – not necessarily the president – was in possession of the antidote to the T-Virus. However, the cure was never released to the public, and slowly, the disease spread across the US, Europe, Africa, and Asia. _

_I wish we could get a hold of that antidote, or vaccine, or cure, or whatever you want to call it. If somehow, we could find this person, or this location were it is rumored they keep the antidote to the virus, I know we'll be safer. Santana will be safe – she wouldn't have to worry about giving her life for me. _

_She's so brave, honorable – she's willing to die in my place. It's every girl's dream really, but not mine. I don't want her to die, especially because of me. If she'd only knew what I think, what I don't show her, all the things I silently keep inside me that I don't dare let her see out of fear, fear that she thinks I don't love her as much as she does, when in fact, it's the complete opposite._

_I don't want her to die because I love her. Because I'm nothing without her, I'm just a walking mass of nothingness. And if I know that because of my cowardice or my inability to take care of myself, she falters, I would never forgive myself. She's too precious, too perfect to die for someone like me. I don't deserve her, I'm just lucky enough that she chose me, that she's still by my side, in my arms, whispering in my ear that she loves me every day despite the madness that surrounds us. I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose myself. She keeps me sane, she drives me away from that verge where I feel that I'm about to lose all hope. She is the reason I'm still living, the reason I want to live. _

_At least I'm glad Puck showed up. He's a good balance, especially for Quinn. I can finally see the smile on her face meeting her eyes. It's the same smile Santana gives to me whenever we know we're safe, or that everything will momentarily be okay. I try to keep hopeful and sane, anticipating the day we get to Alaska and find permanent refuge, find life again._

_Desperately grasping to the last pieces of hope and sanity,_

_Brittany S. Pierce_

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><p><p>

Brittany had been pretending to be asleep for a while now and she was glad Santana had not noticed that her breathing had changed. She had so much on her mind that she couldn't sleep with rest anymore. Every few hours, Brittany would wake up, startled by a noise, confused by a thought, or alarmed by a set of hands touching her – of course, once she figured out they were Santana's, it was easy for her to calm.

Santana was curled up on her, holding her tightly against her body. Brittany knew Santana was awake, since she'd been keeping up a conversation with Puck and Quinn for a good fifteen minutes now. The sound of familiar voices was calming, but not enough to make Brittany find sleep again, so instead, she found herself eavesdropping on a conversation she wasn't sure she was bound to listen to – she'd discuss it with Santana later, privately.

"What happened, Puck? You disappeared, we thought… We thought you had become one of those things". Santana whispers into the dead silence and Brittany absentmindedly squeezes Santana's fingers, the ones that were laced with her own.

There's a deep sigh in the background, one which Brittany knows belongs to Puck. She can hear the frustration behind it. "Remember the day they came for the drafting? When they took us, all the guys, out of the dorms?" Brittany figures Santana maybe just nodded, since she doesn't speak up, and Puck continues. "They separated us, one by one, and they told us how it was time to serve our country. They shoved us inside these buses and took away all forms of communication".

"That's why you never called". Brittany hears Quinn state and her lips press into a hard line.

"Yes. I know I promised you that no matter what happened, we'd always be together. But I couldn't fight against them – believe me, I tried. Those bastards tied me up, put me to sleep. Next thing I knew I woke up in the back of a truck heading God knows where".

"What about Finn?" Santana asks. "And Rachel?" Brittany was wondering the same thing.

"Finn…man". Puck sighs. "He was the first one to escape, when we found out what they were going to do to us. Force us to fight millions of those things. He swore he was going to find Rachel again…"

"And he did". Quinn says. "Last thing Rachel said was that she was going to meet Finn halfway".

"Which means he found a way to contact her". Santana reasons.

"I guess. But I never heard of him after".

"Neither did us from Rachel". Quinn says again. Brittany wants to say something, but she's slightly conscious of the fact that perhaps, they were having this conversation because they thought Brittany was asleep. Serious stuff wasn't discussed in front of her because they never wanted to bring her hopes down, not unless she asked Santana to talk about it with her.

"Do you think…" Puck begins to ask but Santana cuts him off. Brittany already knows the answer.

"Yes".

"Man… I can't believe it. Maybe they made it Santana, who knows?"

There's a snort coming from the front, and Brittany assumes its Quinn. Her theory is proved right when Quinn speaks right after. "What I've learned about this whole situation, is that if we try and hold onto things that make us lose hope, we lose the last bits of sanity we're trying to keep".

"Yeah". Santana agrees, and Brittany feels her body curl up further on hers. Then, Santana's nose is buried on the back of Brittany's neck.

There's a comfortable silence that hangs in the air for a couple of minutes. Brittany is already drifting back to sleep, despite the amount of thoughts on her mind. The: what ifs and the thanks she's chanting in her head – but Puck's voice in the silence awakens her again. "She's your piece of sanity isn't it?"

The question is for Santana, and Brittany can feel Santana squeezing her hand tighter, bringing it to her lips and kissing the top. "She's the only reason I haven't given up really…" Santana pauses to bring Brittany's hand back down. "I can't live without her".

"I know". Puck says; Brittany can picture him leaning to kiss Quinn's cheek or grab her hand. "The only reason I didn't give up was because I knew, hoped, that someday, somehow, I'd return to Quinn. I never expected to find you guys here though…"

"How _did _you find us?" Quinn asks and Brittany's curiosity peaks. She wants to know too.

"I was going to New York, hoping you guys would be there. I remembered B had once mentioned a cottage she had shared with her family on vacation – that day she was all excited after it…" Puck says, and Santana chuckles against Brittany's neck. "She said it was in Vermont, and I was looking for it, as well as I could. I found it tonight – I had been searching for it since I crossed State borders… I know it was fate that made me find it tonight, right in that situation. I knew I was going to find Quinn again".

"I'm glad you're here again". Santana honestly comments.

"Yeah, me too". Brittany can almost hear the smile on Quinn's lips when she states this. "Thank you for coming back".

"Thank you for giving me hope".

And then she feels Santana's lips on her ear, that mischievous smile that she makes when she knows someone did something wrong, or she did something wrong is clearly plastered on her face. "Don't think I don't know you're awake". And Brittany smiles, lacing their fingers tighter together in response. "And I love you, just thought you should remember".

That was enough to make Brittany sleep soundly for a couple of more hours.

* * *

><p>Brittany and Santana are now taking the morning shifts; they want Puck and Quinn to get some alone time. Brittany can identify with that; if Santana were the one who showed up after four months or not seeing her, she'd definitely want to be with her for as long as possible. The roof of the cottage was probably not the most comfortable place to be, it was cold and sunny at the same time. Brittany's eyes were covered with a pair of Aviator sunglasses, making the intensity of the light diminish. Santana's glasses are an imitation of Brittany's – even in times like this they pretty much wear matching everything.<p>

But Brittany wants to discuss something that's been bugging her for the last few hours and she hopes Santana will tell her the truth.

"S?" She calls, her body shifting closer to hers; thigh to thigh, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder.

Santana turns to her and instantly reaches for Brittany's hand. Brittany has a feeling Santana knows what she's going to ask, or at least, has a slight idea on what she wants to talk about. "What happens if we don't get to Alaska?"

Brittany studies Santana's expression, digging for something, some sign that she's trying to close up, but she comes up with nothing. Instead, Santana's gaze falls on the floor of the roof and a sigh escapes her lips. This worries Brittany quite a bit. "I don't know B".

"Really?"

Santana closes her eyes and leans her head on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany instinctively rests hers on top of Santana's head. This was a reflex for them – they found home and comfort in each other. "I don't think about it too much". Brittany instantly knows Santana is being truthful – she could always tell when she was lying, so she lets her continue. "I don't want to think about it. I want to keep my hopes up that soon, some day, all of us will be safe. But most importantly, that you will be safe".

"San…" Brittany begins and Santana squeezes her hand tighter. "You can't protect me all the time you know?"

It's the first time Brittany speaks this and she knows it surprises Santana. "Why not Britt? I want to protect you. I…" Santana sets her jaw tight. "I can't lose you".

"And I can't lose you either, that's why you can't protect me every time there's a dangerous situation. I'm not incompetent…"

"I know". Santana interrupts. "I know you're not. But what if one of us messes up? And then they come after you? I can't let that happen, I can't. That's why I want to make sure you're safe all the time. B… You have no idea how much I love you. How I can't live without you".

Brittany presses her finger on Santana's lips and ever so gently, rests her palm on Santana's cheek. And Brittany leans in to kiss her, it's a soft, chaste kiss, but at the same time, it conveys so much emotion a tear falls down Santana's cheek. Brittany is quick to wipe it away. "Promise me something?"

"Anything".

"Protect yourself more than me. Make sure to keep alive. Please. Don't make it a situation between your life and mine".

"I can't do that". Santana answers honestly; Brittany can hear the crispiness of her voice, motioning the knot Santana is desperately trying to swallow back.

"Yes, you can". Brittany says matter-of-factly. "Please Santana". And a whimper escapes her.

Santana can't promise that, and Brittany can already see it in Santana's eyes. She'll promise but won't keep it. It makes Brittany's heart feel like a tight knot – she'd die for her regardless of the circumstance. "I promise".

Brittany then wraps Santana tightly in her arms and that's when Santana starts to cry. She clings onto Brittany with desperation, gripping the back of her leather jacket. "I love you". Brittany whispers, her own tears matching Santana's. "I will give my life for you too".

And the grip on Brittany's jacket tightens further. "I love you too. More than anything".

"I know".

They sit in each other's embrace for a couple of minutes. The silence doesn't bother Brittany at all, she's just feeling Santana's embrace and her lips on her forehead. It makes the sadness go away for a bit. It's not until a few minutes later that Brittany speaks up again.

"I would have married you, you know?"

Santana looks at her, she cups her cheeks. Brittany realizes she's thinking and before she can say something again, Santana presses her lips on Brittany's. The kiss is desperate, needy, like Santana is trying to say everything with the kiss. "And I would have said yes".

"Then marry me".

Santana pauses. Brittany is slightly conscious on the fact that it's impossible to get married without a minister or someone who is legally allowed to marry couples, but she doesn't care. She's also slightly afraid Santana will say no, despite the reassurance. "Yes".

And Brittany smiles and can't help the tears that flood again. "If we ever find a minister, something…"

But Santana interrupts her. "It doesn't matter Britt. I don't care about a minister or a piece of paper. I take you as my wife, in sickness and in health, good and bad, till death do us apart. It's all we need, you and I together against the world".

Brittany kisses her again, whimpering because she can't stop crying. "I promise I'll love you, every single day of my life".

"Me too B, forever".

They sit together, their fingers laced, their bodies touching, while once again, they look into the horizon for any signs of danger. However, there is this glimmer of hope that hangs in the air, Brittany can't place it, but she feels that right now, somehow, everything would be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the reviews guys! Also, I'm a sap for Brittana angst/romance. Sorry for lack of action, I promise more on the next chapter! **

**Questions, comments, concerns, suggestions! Go ahead and hit that review button :P**


	4. On the road: Expect the Unexpected

**_Santana_**

_September 19, 2015_

**Location: **On the road.

**Time: **6:07 am.

_Diary Entry #4,_

_It's funny how the surroundings have changed, how everything has changed. I can no longer spot any green in the cities; no grass, no watered trees. Everything is just dead, shattered apart – almost as if expected. Sometimes I hoped we could find a place to relax, somewhere away from this madness, at least for a couple of minutes, but everywhere you look, everywhere you turn to, there's nothing but depressing colors. They all combine together to form a giant palate of loneliness and despair. Not even when we're on the road can we find color in our lives._

_Being on the road is something we'd all gotten used to. It's impossible to stay in place for more than two days. They have some sort of radar, almost as if they can sense that they have possibility for prey and move towards it, like magnets attracted to metals. Their instincts are animalistic, they live to feed. We have tried to analyze their nature – none of us are experts – Brittany went to arts school, so did Quinn, and my three years of medical school definitely don't help in figuring out what goes on behind the minds of the living dead. But one thing is for sure: They do not use logic, nor do they sense danger. They do not possess the ability to run, almost as if their limbs are incapable of moving past a certain speed. They react on the scent of blood; they are aggressive and almost unstoppable. The only thing that kills them is a clean head shot; they have no possession of pain receptors. I come to think that their mind works in one way, for only one thing. Their sensors in their neurons could have apparently been altered by the virus – they don't come back to life human, they come back to life as despicable, unstoppable animals, thirsting with only the desire to quench their hunger. With apparently no recognition for whom they are, who they were, and what is happening to them, they cannot be considered more than dead/living bodies. Just that, a mass that walks and feeds._

_But my mind does not only stay in these facts. Lately, my mind has been wondering over only one thing – Brittany. She never leaves my mind, but usually, my instinct of self-preservation and my instinct to protect her overpowers. However, that day back at the cottage, where she proposed to me, it never falters to leave my mind. How I wish we could actually get married, say I do in front of all our friends and family – but it will never happen. Her parents are never going to be able to hear her declare my undying love for her; neither will they hear their daughter claim her vows in front of everyone. Sometimes, it kills me not to be able to give her everything. For as much as my promise counted, I do believe we are married, or tied together forever in some way. I'd give her the world if I could; never break a promise to her. So from this day on, I will claim myself as Brittany's wife, no matter what. _

_She seems a little more hopeful, at least, that's what Quinn, Puck, and I have agreed on. She tries to cheer us up daily. Yesterday night, she even tried to play a road trip game with all of us, something I haven't seen her do in a while. It suffices me to know that this brought her the glimmer of hope she needed. At least I know I will die happy, if she's safe, knowing that I tied myself to her in every way possible. I want to make her feel the same way she makes me feel. And I know that one day, if all of this ever ends, I will do everything in my power to show her how much she means to me, how much I love her._

_I just hope to get to Alaska soon. _

_My last thread of hope is in her,_

_Santana Lopez._

* * *

><p>It's been a while since you've taken the wheel and you realize how much you miss driving. Maybe it's the fact that driving gives you a sense of freedom, or maybe it is the fact that you feel in charge when you're behind the steering wheel of the car. Whatever it is you find this strange sense of peace. At least you get to watch Brittany for a longer time, while Puck and Quinn sit on the back of the SUV. Her hand is tightly holding yours and she's absentmindedly stroking one of your fingers. You find it odd for a while, but she speaks up.<p>

"It should have been here". She mumbles and you turn to look at her with a confused expression.

"Hm?" You ask her, the confusion clear in your tone.

"The engagement ring".

This sure catches Quinn and Puck's attention; from the review mirror you see their heads shoot up and their eyebrows rising. You have not told them yet, and it gives you this foreign sense of guilt. All this is doing strange things to you.

"Wait… Excuse me?" Quinn speaks up and suddenly, her head is right in between you and Brittany. You roll your eyes at her and manage to catch a glimpse of Brittany, who is biting her lip and looking you with those eyes, those eyes that make you go weak on the knees.

You sigh dramatically while you veer left through a dirt path, avoiding the city. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything". Quinn states and this time turns to Brittany, sure that she'll give her more information than you.

Brittany looks at you and you nod; you didn't need to give her permission, and your chest tightens. Sometimes, things from high school are never forgotten. You find yourself setting the goal of changing everything you did in high school, making people see that you no longer are that scared Santana anymore.

Puck speaks up this time, it's loud and it resounds in the silence of the car. "Yes! It was only a matter of time!"

"Well…" You start, and you recognize that expression Brittany and you smile at her. She smiles back when she senses everything was going to be okay. "Married really".

"What?" Quinn is confused, the tilt of her head motions she is trying to make sense out of your statement.

"You don't need a minister to get married, Q".

"Uh, yes you do". Quinn states matter-of-factly. It pisses you off to no end and you turn to snarl at her.

"You don't! You only need the love between two people and a promise".

"But you can't expect to be tied to Brit—"

"It's just a piece of paper". Brittany cuts in, a worried frown on her face. You don't know what suddenly got into you, but your anger boils.

"That's right. A piece of paper is not going to determine how much I love Brittany. If I promise I'll be tied to her forever, then I will".

"How do you know you'll never forget that promise?" Quinn cuts you, and you hit the breaks. The tires screech against the pavement and Puck's 'Shit', echoes in the silence. Quinn realizes she said something stupid because she's sinking back in her chair, Brittany is looking out the window, and you swear you see a tear falling down her eye. You don't know how to react, but you do know you can't comfort Brittany in this state. So you hop out of the car and slam the door and storm off.

The dried grass makes that shuffling noise against your boots; your mumbles are low, incoherent. You don't realize there is a pursuit behind you until you see Quinn and Brittany hot on your heels. You growl – you do not want to talk to Quinn right now and you're afraid you'll say something out of anger to Brittany. You hated that, when your temper got the worse of you, when you couldn't control your words because of the boiled up irritation that threatens to consume you every day of your life.

But when a hand touches your shoulder you stop. It's not Brittany, that's for sure. You know its Quinn's, who suddenly is turning you around. You spot Brittany far away nervously looking in your direction.

"What the hell? Are you insane?"

"Go away". You snarl.

"No Santana. Talk to me".

"I don't' want to talk to you right now".

"Why did you run?"

As if it wasn't obvious the reason why you ran, you glare at her. Then your rage overtakes and you blurt out. "You have no right to tell me what to do, what not to do! You have no fucking right to get Brittany's hopes down! You have no right to make her cry! I've never seen her this happy in so long Quinn, God! Who cares about a fucking minister, or about a wedding, or about a piece of paper you can print out from the internet?" You shove her back and Quinn stumbles backwards, luckily you see her regaining her balance. "For me, it's enough to promise her, it's enough that I know I love her, that I will love her every day of my miserable life!"

"Santana, calm down".

"Fuck you, Fabray". You haven't called her Fabray since high school and she blinks; she immediately knows you mean business with your anger, and she sighs.

"Look, I'll leave you alone, but don't go too far up the path. At least take Britt with you".

You turn around again; you walk for a good 15 seconds before you feel a hand lacing with yours. It's familiar, warm, loving – it calms you instantly. You're glad she followed behind you.

Brittany doesn't say anything throughout the walk. It's comforting, bringing that sense of normalcy back in you. You realize how much you need her, how truly she is the only reason you have not gone crazy. You live for her, not for yourself. You want to make her feel like she makes you feel. She speaks up until you reach a large rock, where she settles against and pulls you into a hug.

Your sobs consume the silence instantly. You are unsure to why you are crying and you cling onto her desperately. It's a needy embrace; you soak her jacket with your tears while she whispers soothing words into your ear.

"I'm here, I got you. It's gonna be okay S, don't listen to Quinn, she's being dumb. Shhh…" Her voice is so reassuring it calms you and your sobs begin to subside.

You stand in her embrace for what seems like hours and she never lets go of you, never questions your reason for crying; she's there for you, trying to comfort you, and you feel your heart swell up again. You love and need this girl so much in ways that terrify you.

* * *

><p>You don't realize you've fallen asleep until your ears catch a mumble close to you. It's familiar, comforting, a mumble that could only belong to her. You suddenly find your arms wrapped tightly around her, clinging onto the fabric of her jacket for dear life. It bothers you that you don't remember when you fell asleep, but at the same time, this was routine, something you remember doing back in high school and back in college; falling asleep with her in your arms after watching a movie, or just soaking in the comfort that you brought one another. So you savor the moment and look up at her.<p>

She's awake too and a laugh instantly escapes your lips. You smile brightly at her and her white teeth are shown as she tugs her lips up into that beautiful smile. It meets the blue of her eyes and makes you melt. "Hi". You say all the anger from before wiped away.

"Hi". She giggles back at you and leans in for a soft kiss, which you eagerly return. "You're up". You state – it's not a question, it's an acknowledgement, but Brittany answers it like it was a question.

"I know, but I've been for like five minutes or so. You looked so peaceful that I just couldn't wake you up".

She traces your lips with her fingertips and you place light kisses on them. You forget why you're here, the situation you're in, or that your life is in danger. It's just you and her right now.

"So you were watching me slee –"

"Santana, Brittany!" A male voice echoes throughout and you cringe. No one is supposed to scream in these situations, especially in a place with potential for danger. They were attracted to noises, smells – almost as if their senses were heightened by the abnormality of this virus. Brittany turns her head to look at Puck walking towards us, his breathing ragged while he caught up.

He holds onto his knees and straightens back up before he speaks. "Come on, we found something". He motions us to get up and Brittany is the first to comply. You're sad that she has to unwrap your arms from around herself, but you know that if Puck and Quinn found refuge that meant another place where you could rest safely. In the middle of a lonely field you were more likely to encounter a ghoul coming for your flesh.

Brittany helps you up your feet and twines her fingers with yours, pulling you with her as you walk in silence. You follow Puck through a trail – you see the familiar tracks of the SUV leading into the woods. On instinct, you ready your gun while your other hand clings onto Brittany's, ready just in case of any sign of danger.

"It's fine". Puck says, noticing your actions. "Quinn and I surveyed the area already. Nothing to fear".

You're a little relieved, especially by the look Brittany does. You let yourself relax and follow after him – he's removing branches from the way, pulling them up so you can make your way through without disruption. It's not until a good fifteen minutes of walking that you know what he's talking about.

It was a small house; smaller than the cottage back in Vermont. Panels made of woods, the door was swung open, and the windows covered with pieces of metal – almost as if someone had been trying to protect themselves. It barks your curiosity and you pull Brittany along with you.

"What is this place?" You ask, your feet stepping onto the porch with Brittany hot on your heels.

"I'm not sure. It seems vaguely familiar, almost as if I've seen it before but can't remember. But that's not really what I want you guys to see. Come in".

And you follow him inside. The house smelled strange, almost like bleach or some other unrecognizable chemical that lingered in the air. It makes your nostrils flare and your throat burn. It has the same effect on Brittany because she begins to cough and make a face. "Smells nasty". She comments and pinches her nose. You reach into your pocket for a piece of cloth and give it to her, pressing it lightly against her nose.

"Here Britt, use this, it'll help".

With a thankful smile she holds the piece of cloth to her nose and relaxes.

But when you turn your attention back to Puck you notice Quinn in the room for the first time. She sprawled on the floor, papers in front of her – they are adorned with unrecognizable patterns, all in blue ink. Your curiosity peaks and you move to see what she's doing. From the corner of your eye you see Brittany moving around the room, glancing over the unfamiliar objects in front of her.

"What the hell is this?" You comment, frowning at the rare appearance of the papers that are now in front of you.

"I'm not sure". Quinn begins, her eyes flickering to you while Puck settles at her side, placing a comforting hand on her back. "They look like maps, and equations of some sort, but I can't really figure them out".

"So?" You try to logic. "Maybe someone who owned this was some sort of chemist or something. Maybe that's why he lived so inside the woods".

"Or not". Quinn puts a finger up and you raise an eyebrow. "You see, he wouldn't write entry after entry about trying to find a cure for this 'Mortal carnivorous virus'. But the worse part is, look at the date, it says: January 16, 2011. This man was working on something, something to stop all of this way before we even knew this started. We were still in high school when this happened". You're suddenly scared and you move closer to Quinn to get a better look. Even Brittany is interested now, and she's leaning over the three bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of everything. "However, his last diary entry dates back to 2014. On October to be exact".

"Wasn't that the time that they said they were developing a cure for all of this?" Puck asks, tilting his head.

"That's the weird part".

Brittany shifts her weight, allowing her hands to rest upon the tabletop so her head is hovering over the papers.

There's a light click and Brittany's eyes widen. She stands up and looks at you with a panicked expression.

"Uh, guys… Did you hear that?" Brittany asks, looking around.

"Yeah". You answer. You're suddenly alert; your hands reach for the gun in your pocket.

"Holy shit". Puck speaks and points to his right. "What is that?"

It's an open bookshelf. It reminds you of the movies with the secret hallways and the different dangers you'd encounter in them. You're suddenly pulling Brittany's arm, preventing her from going in. "Don't" You warn her and pull her close. "You never know what can happen".

"But we have to see what's inside". Quinn reasons, her body is already moving her closer and you frown. You're worried about your safety, the consequences, but most importantly, you're worried about Brittany.

"No Q…"

But it's too late; Puck and Quinn are already inside. You wonder if you should follow behind but your instinct of self-preservation tells you otherwise. So you grip Brittany's hand and pull her into a hug, preventing her from following after. "Let's stay here and wait". You whisper – you know there's evident panic behind it. You're sure she can hear it because her hands are suddenly on your back, rubbing it soothingly, trying to make you regain your composure.

You stand there in silence, occasionally placing reassuring kisses on her skin, until you hear the sound of footsteps – no not footsteps, sprinting.

Quinn's body shoots out from the inside of the bookshelf, Puck hot on her heels. "Run! Run!" Quinn screams and you find your feet. Puck shuts the bookshelf tightly and holds it.

"What is it?" You scream while you run behind Quinn. Puck has now escaped and is trying to catch up with you. "Were there any of them inside there?"

"Yes!" Quinn explains. "Millions. A barricade of them!"

Puck finally catches up. "It's like they're trying to create an army or something. I swear they were at least 60 of them in there. And more inside those containers!"

"Containers?" Brittany asks while she runs beside you.

"I'll explain later. We found this…" Quinn waves a piece of paper in the air. You hadn't noticed her holding it until now. You reason she probably had a god reason to keep it hidden. But before Quinn can finish you hear a loud bang coming from behind you. The bookshelf is gone, down on the floor. They're crawling out, one by one, some through the windows, others through the door and your feet carry you faster. You begin to load your gun just in case and everyone mimics your actions. Brittany clasps your hand tightly and you squeeze it. She mutters an 'I love you', something you always did in these situations. You're always afraid that you will never get to tell her that one last time and you're glad she shares that feeling. You're glad she's telling you she loves you first.

"I love you too". You whisper back at her.

You're glad they can't run, you already have some distance in them and you slow down – you're sure you've lost them. It'll take them a good twenty minutes to pace the distance you just ran and you pant, settling your forehead against Brittany's shoulder. She wraps your arms around you and pants along with you.

"What…did…the letter…say?" You ask, gasping for air. You breathe along with Brittany's chest contractions, trying to find that steady breathing again.

"We didn't get to read it all…"

"Read it now". Brittany says; her breathing is more even. Years of dancing did that, it helped you find your rhythm, gain incredible stamina.

Quinn clears her throat and begins.

**_Experiment number 1,456._**

**_The new antidote has been found to be useful. I didn't think it were possible. With years into trying to find salvation for humanity I've finally found something that works. I'm not sure what it does – it appears to toggle with a human's immune system, making their blood combine with the virus. The virus doesn't overpower the mind; the mind overpowers the virus. However, I've noticed that it doesn't work the same with all of them. Some of them react positively, showing signs of recuperation – attentive when their name is called. They remember how to use household items: pens, notebooks, cameras, knives – pretty much anything they could have used in their human life. _**

**_But it doesn't work the same for everyone. Some of them become more aggressive, even more animalistic than before. They are not able to control absolutely anything and they resolve into frenzy. I've lost many men over this. _**

**_The one's that appear to develop a good response only do for a certain period of time. The T-Virus fights against the cure and eventually dissolves it into more T-Virus cells. I'm starting to think it'll take someone very unique to resist this cure. Once the virus is set in, it's almost impossible to stop it. _**

"And the rest is blurry, almost as if they wanted to remove everything else" Quinn finishes, setting the paper in her pocket and sighing.

"See, I told you that place was super weird". Puck mutters. Quinn places a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go back to the SUV and find another place". Brittany pleads, her arms tightening around me and you nod in agreement. You really do not want to die today.

As everyone agrees you find yourself following behind all of them, your hand never leaving hers, your steps almost timed. You realize you're exhausted – you want to sleep. Your yawn almost echoes through the field.

It's drowned out though, almost as if it was nonexistent. There's a horrible noise – you can make out an engine. You've heard it before but can't quite places and you look up in the air.

"Holy shit… Is that a chopper?" Quinn exclaims and she begins to wave her hands in the air. "Over here!"

You begin to yell along with her; it becomes a chorus of 'save us' and 'S.O.S'. You hope they see you.

They do though, because suddenly the chopper is coming down. The air it releases from their helix blows the hair off your face. It makes you squint your eyes. You suddenly get this gut feeling, that something is about to go horribly wrong.

You should always listen to those gut feelings.

You've never seen these men before, but they're coming at you, with guns, running at full speed, in attack mode.

"Them". You hear a voice yell and your eyes widen. Your feet are suddenly dragging you and Brittany backwards, running away from the danger. Puck and Quinn seemed to have sensed the same because they're running after you.

Their covered faces jog right after you. They seem fitter than you are. They're trying to catch up and you're trying to get Brittany away from danger.

Then there's guns shooting. They terrify the shit out of you. You're turning to find your gun when you find yourself being pushed down.

"Duck!" You hear Brittany's voice resounding in your ears.

Then a piercing scream.

It comes from her voice.

You freeze and turn around.

She's sprawled on the floor, a red circle on her shoulder. You immediately move towards her. Panic overtakes you; you dread that the bullet shot somewhere you know will cause permanent damage. This feeling of loss takes over your body and you don't know whether to cry or scream too – but you do know you have to somehow take care of her. She's not crying, she's just looking at you with an apologetic glance that breaks your heart. This is what you've been trying to avoid, what you've been dreading. She got hurt and you couldn't do anything about it.

"Britt…Britt, look at me". You plead; you grab her face between your hands and forget about everything. "You'll be okay; once we head back I'll make sure to take care of you okay? Just hand in there Britt, baby, please". You lean to kiss her and she kisses you back. She chuckles though and you pull away and raise an eyebrow.

"It's just in the shoulder. I'm going to be fine". Her optimism makes you cling onto her more desperately and whisper I love you like a mantra. You don't hear the footsteps approaching you until you feel a set of hands wrapping around your armpits and pulling you up.

"No!" You scream and wiggle out of his embrace. You want to stay with her. "Please, no. Don't, not away from her!" You sob and hit the strange man's back with your fists.

He puts you down on the floor, rather violently though, and you lightly hit your shoulders against the muddy ground. You curse and look up.

You can see his eyes through the mask and he's glaring at you. You follow his path when he begins to walk – there's something oddly familiar about it, but you can't quite place it. But you protest when he picks her up and drags her towards you.

He stops and motions for you to stay put. You do and reach for Brittany, who rests her head against your shoulder. You watch as he ties Quinn and Puck up.

That's when you take the time to examine him. He's dressed in black, in what could only be described as indestructible armor. A sword, and several guns and grenades attached to his belt. His mask covers all his façade and it makes you unable to analyze his face while he motions for the rest of the people to leave. They're all dressed alike, and one by one, they hop into the chopper and leave you alone with this lunatic.

His footsteps resound in your ears when he comes back towards you; it's then when you see the big emblem on his clothing. 'Umbrella Corporation'. You snarl at the mere name. He was probably going to kill all of us. You place your lips against Brittany's neck and whisper.

"I love you so much, you know that right?"

Brittany looks up at you with those sky blue eyes and nods. "I know. And I love you too. Always will".

You're crying while he's walking back to you, he crouches down and looks around – it's odd, it's almost as if he's trying to see if anyone else was around. He stretches his arm, its heading towards Brittany and you kick him. He glares at you.

"Stop it. Let me tend her wound".

His voice startles you – it's familiar but you can't place it. It was all so strange.

He stretches his hand once again to tug at Brittany's jacket, which slides off and hits the floor. You watch him as he takes the firs aid kit and begins to work on her. She winces now and then, squeezing your hand every time it hurt, squeezing even harder when he removed the bullet from her shoulder. You're rubbing your thumb on top of her hand while he stitches her up – he occasionally steals glances your way, and glances Quinn's way. This man was getting stranger by the second. You have your eyes on him like a hawk, any wrong move and you know you'll reach for your gun and shoot him. He can't do anything to her, if he dreads to touch her in the wrong way you know you'll step up and fight for her life.

Once he's done he wipes his hands and puts his gloves back on. "Who the fuck are you?" You spat at him and he takes a step back. His sigh is almost dramatic and once again her looks around.

There's a moment of hesitation that goes on, almost as if he is thinking on what to do. You don't know what he'll reveal, if he'll take you captive, if he'll kill you. So you grab Brittany's hand and brace yourself. Then he is reaching for the thing that's covering his face and removes it.

Blonde hair. Light eyes, full, trouty lips that belonged in the mouth of Steven Tyler.

A gasp escapes all of us at the same time.

"Sam?" You scream and you find yourself on your feet, your arms going around him instantly. He hugs you back.

When you pull away he gives you a light smile and you find hope again.

"It's nice to see you too Santana".

And Quinn is suddenly trying to wiggle out of the ropes, so is Puck. Brittany's eyes are wide and she's also getting up from the floor, putting her arms around him with a grunt. "How…We thought you were – " She reasons, grabs his face between her hands and looks at him. She's examining to see if it's really him, rubbing her hands across his cheeks, running her fingers through his hair. You watch her as her face lights up and you leave her alone with him for a moment, while you go untie your other two friends.

"Is that really Sam?" Puck asks while you crouch down to untie his hands and feet. Once you have his hands you figure he can work on his feet by himself so you move to help Quinn. It's all so strange, all happening too fast. You don't know what to make of it. Your head is spinning with possibilities. What if he is bad? What if they brainwashed him? Is it a trick? But Sam has always been Sam; at least that's how you remember him from high school. Honorable, sweet, the nicest guy on the planet.

"Yeah, it really is him".

Once you're done with Quinn she gets up and sprints towards him. You notice her wrapping her arms around him too and you walk in silence with Puck. You're desperately seeking and explanation for this.

"He works for Umbrella". You speak up. Puck stops walking and raises an eyebrow.

"Holy fuck. Why?"

"How should I know Puckerman? I saw it was him five minutes ago!"

"Man, do you think we can trust him?" Puck's voice sounds slightly concerned, but you are wondering the exact same thing.

You look forward again. Brittany is laughing, smiling at Sam while he smiles right back. In that moment you don't see any potential sign for danger and you keep walking. You don't get that gut feeling; nothing warns you that you shouldn't trust him. Your mind flickers with memories of him back in high school – even the time you 'dated' him. You can't help the smile that tugs into your lips when you reach them, the laugh that escapes you when Brittany wraps your arms around your neck and kisses you, yelling: "It really is him, San!"

You make eye contact with him. His eyes are apologetic, almost empty, but you see a glimmer of regret there. When you scrunch your eyebrows at him he notices and he shakes his head. He points at his uniform, the emblem, the red and white Umbrella symbol. When he runs his fingers through his hair you know.

He doesn't want to be here. Not with them.

He's one of the good guys.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So uh hehe, I love Sam and I thought of bringing him in. Just a brief appearance, he's not gonna hang around to long. :P**

**Reviews make me write faster! No pressure though :)**


	5. The pain of possible losses: Sam

**CHAPTER 5**

September 20, 2015

**Time: **4:50 pm.

**Location: **An unknown hideout.

_Diary Entry #5,_

_It seems like yesterday when out heart, bodies, and souls were deeply drowned into music, into popularity, into being the best you could be, in outdoing everything and everyone. It's surprising how much you can change in a matter of months, how things you considered important are now just trivial memories of your past, of your mistakes, of things you would gladly take back. They say you learn from your mistakes though and it's absolutely true. My pink hair fiasco, my desire to have someone love me – I didn't realize who my true self was until I went back to Puck. _

_The day Sam popped up out of nowhere overwhelmed me. I swear, I could have sworn on my life that we had lost him, that he was a walking corpse amongst the other millions of infected people walking in the planet. I was wrong – we were all wrong. But everything is still sketchy; even if Brittany and Santana do believe he's one of the good guys, here to help. Puck is doubtful; claiming anyone who gives in to Umbrella must be insane. I'm sure though, that whatever Sam is doing he's doing it for a legitimate reason, something more than meets the eye; not necessarily bad of course. _

_The run down of Umbrella Corporation is complicated however. It's not an institution, it's not a government induced facility – no one knows why it came or who owns it. All we know is that they emerged with the first research to find said cure for the T-Virus. However, time passed, and there was no progress. Umbrella's deep search for power was cut deeply into the hearts of American citizens, citizens around the world who thought that the chaos was going to subside. I guess that after finding that note in that secluded cabin we found our answer. Somehow, they are the fault behind all of this. Maybe their intention was to create an army, an indestructible biological weapon – perhaps the propagation of the disease was an accident, or something unavoidable, but it doesn't change the fact that they did absolutely nothing to stop it. They knew before everything collapsed, before almost every person in the world faltered under the vicious claws of the threatening disease. _

_We're determined to find out more about this. The why's, the if's, the what's, and where's. I just hope Sam can provide us with an answer. As much as it scares me to admit, I feel safer around him. Maybe he's the glimmer of hope we'd been searching for. _

_Holding on just a little more,_

_Quinn Fabray._

* * *

><p>It's really strange to see his gold locks again, his familiar face, that damn smile he always put on. Puck agrees, we thought he was dead, gone, just like every single one of our friends. Hope is not really something that comes easy in this situation. I'm not afraid to admit though, that the fact that Sam is alive gives me a little more hope, that somehow there is a way out of all of this madness. It's a shock, how people keep coming. First Puck, now Sam – it makes me wonder whether Rachel and Finn are still out there. Mike, Tina, Mercedes, we watched them die, but the rest disappeared.<p>

At least having Puck by my side is enough to be able to keep the last bits of sanity I have left. I don't feel third wheel anymore; finally, I have someone I can feel protective of, someone who would actually protect me. His smile, God how I missed that goofy smile he put, especially that day in New York when we moved in together. I missed the childish way in which he would look at me to assure me there was nothing wrong, or the way he would eye me and tell me I was perfect. I'm just glad to have him back. His old self, the Puck I love, I trust, I adore with all my heart.

But Sam is different. Brittany and Santana agree with me. His hair is shorter; his eyes don't meet that same sparkle they used to have back in high school. He looks more serious, more uptight. It's not a surprise though, after the story he told us I would probably be acting the same way, perhaps even worse.

_"They came at us, two soldiers grabbing each of us, taking us captive. They dragged me out of the damn locker rooms for Christ sake. They didn't have any glimpse of piety in them; those who fought and refused were shot and left do die, I didn't want to die, so I went with whatever it was that they wanted us to do. It's easy to give in though, it's not like I had any choice in the matter; regardless of the evilness and unfairness that Umbrella possessed – they had more power over me than I thought. Just a simple threat was enough, sufficient for me to nod and agree to be their pawn"._

_His eyes were tearful, he even ran the back of his hand on them while Brittany rubbed his back softly, trying to soothe him. You could tell that Brittany had missed him too. Santana though was a little skeptic, determined for him to continue his story regardless of his emotional state. She spoke up, moving past Puck and I and settling next to him, her fingers twining into the last bits of hair he had._

_"What happened to you Sam? What did they do to you?"_

_Sam looked at her with such a pained expression I thought he was going to break down and sob, but he didn't. Instead, he composed himself, straightened his back and cleared his throat. His body language was different though; he settled on the ground almost sloppily, tired, like he just wanted to give up on life. Something told me that he was fighting for someone other than him – that would be typical of Sam._

_"I refused at first. The program wasn't something I was interested in, I wasn't interested in sorting people from the crowd and forcing them to be experiments for a corporation that had done nothing more than harm to the people. I didn't get to see it first hand, which I'm grateful for. But I saw the people, turning into monsters, hungry cannibals who sought nothing but blood and flesh – some of them were my friends from college Santana!" He threw his hands up in frustration and looked at me, his smile was apologetic. I nodded, urging him to carry on while Puck took my hand and kissed it. _

_"But how did they drag you into this Sammy?" Brittany speaks up, settling his hand on his broad shoulder. _

_"They… They have Stacy and Stevie…"_

_The gasp that escapes my lips was not unnoticed and Puck grips my hand. "Those low lives, sons of bitches!" I yell. Sam presses his finger to his lips, indicating me to be quiet. I knew it was necessary, there was a possibility we were being watched. "How could they do this?" I speak in a whisper this time, swallowing and scooting closer to Puck._

_"Because they're Umbrella, the hell less do you expect?" Puck says, shaking his head. "If they were recruiting me to fight those things, I can't only imagine what they did to Sam". _

_"They knew it was the only way Quinn. Umbrella knows more about you than you know about them. In fact, I don't think a lot of people know much about Umbrella Corporation". _

_"What we know is that they have to be terminated" Santana stated matter-of-factly._

_"Yeah, I think we all agree on that". _

_Brittany is moving to Santana's side now, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting manner. Sam is not fazed by this and smiles. "There's not much you can do but find a safety spot before they realize you're still alive and come after you"._

_"What do they want from us?" I ask._

_"You already know too much, you found one of the secret lab research facilities. You have great potential of revealing this to a third party, someone who might possess the resources to stop Umbrella. They don't want to be stopped; they want to dominated the entire continent, if possible, the world"._

_"Who's behind this?" Puck asks now, looking more impatient._

_"That's the thing, nobody knows Puckerman. Not even us, who supposedly are their most 'trusted employees'. We have no idea who runs the Corporation, who's in charge, and why they want to do this"._

_"And there's nothing we can do?" Brittany asks, her arms still around Santana._

_"No, not really. And you don't really want to mess with them. I went out of my way to save you four today, if they found out I helped you, I could be in deep trouble. We will have to separate again, they track me, and they might know where I am sooner or later if I take longer than usual. I can take you across the next border, but after that, you guys are on your own". Sam says, dropping his head. I get up though, baffled because he actually feels bad and run my fingers through his golden locks._

_"It's all right Sam; you've done enough for us. You took us to refuge and now you're going to help us across. That's enough, if it keeps you safe, we're fine"._

_And he envelops me in a hug and this time he does sob, gripping the back of my shirt tightly. I rub his back, thinking of how bad this must be for him, knowing that he would rather be anywhere but doing this for people who wanted to destroy the human existence. It's not long though, before each of us has our arms around him. First Brittany, then Santana, then Puck, just like magnets attracted to a metal object._

_"It'll be okay Sam; they'll be stopped, someday. You'll see them again"._

* * *

><p>He did drop us in the next border, handed us the car keys, gave us protection details and wished us luck. I remember watching him leave in Puck's motorcycle; I remember the look of regret and sadness in his face. I know it'll be something that will haunt me for the rest of my life – I wish he could have come with us.<p>

But Puck grabs my hand though as I drive in the car, Brittany and Santana curled up and sound asleep. He leans over the dashboard and places a soft, chaste kiss on my cheek.

"We'll make it out Quinn. We'll find a way out. And you and I, we'll fulfill everything that we didn't get to do, all that we promised to one another. I love you okay? That won't change, not even in the midst of a Zombie Apocalypse will my feelings change for you".

That's enough to get me through the night, just knowing Puck is still here, still here for me, with me, in love with me. That glimmer of hope slowly returns while we wait for the worse.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: I apologize for the short chapter. Just had a lot of things to do, life got in the way._**

**_BTW: Follow my tumblr where you can get sneak peeks of this fic and other several, one shots. simplemathiswherewestarted. tumblr. com_**


	6. Not a Dream You'd Hope For: The SUV

**CHAPTER 6**

**_Brittany_**

September 22, 2015

**Time: **1:21 am.

**Location: **Inside the SUV.

_Diary Entry #6,_

_There's only as much information that the brain can process in the matter of a few days. It brings me back to my high school years, when the teachers would try and cramp information into my head as quickly and ineffectively as possible. It never worked out for me, learning things that seem unimportant – so I generally shoved them away. I didn't care about the Federal System, or how to solve the bicorn curve in my pre-calc class. But it did not mean I was unobservant. It didn't mean I was completely naïve about the things that went on around me. _

_I remember the first sign of the epidemic in WMHS. I remember it like it was yesterday. _

_He was walking slowly, head down, empty eyes surrounded by a grayish smudge. He looked lifeless, and I nudged Santana in the rib and pointed. 'Hey San, Jew Fro's sick'. And I remember how Santana chuckled and shrugged and watched him disappear into the nurse's office without a word. 'At least we know it's not mono'. _

_But Jacob never returned after that day. Neither did we ever hear knew about his whereabouts. We should've known. We should have realized that things would start of like that. One sick kid gets another kid sick, then two more, and then it's sixteen, next thing you know, you got a 100,000 people epidemic, and there's no way to control it. No cure. No warning. No way to stop the abomination that slowly spreads and consumes the world. _

_However, I find myself being assaulted with information, information that I have to process and cramp in my brain. The worse part is that I have no choice in the matter. No choice but to learn how to survive. I can't count the times when Santana has read that diary entry found in that shack. How many times her teeth gritted together in the past few days or how many times she's yelled at nothing and no one – frustration seems to be getting the best of her. She's angry at the world, angry because she knows this could have been prevented, because she knows the government always puts themselves first before their people. She knows that if Umbrella didn't exist, we wouldn't be in this situation. But there's nothing Santana can do to stop what is happening, neither can she fix things – like I said, humans are limited with capabilities; there's only so much we can do before everything is just too much._

_It doesn't stop me from hoping though. It doesn't stop me from believing that some day this will be over, that those who survived will be able to live peacefully again, and that we will be able to lead a normal life once more. _

_And even if I don't let Santana see it, I miss normalcy. I miss curling up with her on the couch at our apartment, watching old sit-coms and eating popcorn in the middle of the night, or making a grilled cheese sandwich at two in morning just because we could. I miss hearing the sound of the microwave when Santana was heating up something before she went to class, or the smell of coffee that invaded the kitchen when either one of us was up early and had to rely on caffeine to function. _

_And I miss her laugh. That precious giggle she would make whenever something went right, or when she found something cutely funny. I haven't heard it in so long. It's been so long since Santana has laughed – at least genuinely. I want to hear that sound once more. I want to hear it drowning my ears like liquid melodies. I don't want it to be a buried memory; I want to hear it every day, consuming my ears once more, when we were happy, when it was just us, when we were safe and sound and had each other and nobody else. _

_Unfortunately, it feels like I would be asking too much. _

_If only we weren't fighting for our lives every given second, or had to watch our backs for any signs of danger, I know I'd hear it again. _

_At least I have the satisfaction to know that our love is the only thing that is not a buried memory. Love is probably the only thing alive now, it's the only thing that gives us hope, the only thing we're living and fighting for; the only thing that matters now._

_Hoping for normalcy again,_

_Brittany S. Pierce_

* * *

><p>The dimming light on the back of the SUV flickers for a few seconds before Brittany stretches her hand to turn it off. It makes a light click, which causes Puck to glance at her from the review mirror. Brittany only smiles at him, shaking her head so he turns his attention back to the road. Brittany knows it's late, so she doesn't bother to check the time before sighing and closing the diary in her hands. It makes a slight thump as it lands on top of Santana's bag and Brittany stiffens, hoping it would not wake Santana or Quinn up. But there's no movement, no sound coming from her side or the middle seat. Brittany sighs and carefully lays down next to Santana, not bothering to throw on the blanket.<p>

She hadn't been able to sleep; her mind was always haunted by memories or thoughts that would keep her mind working, thinking. She did not want to think right now, she didn't want to be clogged with thoughts that only discouraged her and kept her hopes down. Brittany tended to avoid those thoughts as much as possible; however, lately she'd been unsuccessful in shoving them away.

"You okay back there, Britt?"

It's Puck's rough voice that startles Brittany and wakes her from her own thoughts. She doesn't say anything though, hoping Puck would think she went back to sleep.

"I know you're up B, talk to me".

So Brittany sighs, and carefully sits up, making sure not to wake her friend's up. She stares at Puck's hazel-green eyes, and does nothing but stare. Puck's eyes are challenging, they're overwhelming Brittany; his sight is slowly creeping into her, trying to break down the walls that Brittany formed daily. Blue eyes kept staring at hazel green – both of them challenge each other, waiting to see who caves in first; if Puck would look away and let it go, or if Brittany would speak up and talk to him.

But it becomes too much for Brittany, so she clears her throat and stretches across the back of the car, her head against the bottom of the window. "What is there to talk about Puck? And yeah, I'm okay. I guess you could say I'm fine. Look around you, we are all freaking lucky to be alive".

Puck looks out the window and Brittany follows his gaze. He stares at darkness, at dark bushes that sweep along the windows of the SUV, at the shining moon behind grey clouds, and at the empty, lifeless street that only holds and announces the loneliness of the world.

"Brittany, talk to me, please. What's on your mind?"

There's something about Puck's voice that makes Brittany look at him directly again. She blinks, swallowing back the knot in her throat before she sighs.

"I'm worried about her".

It's a faint whisper that is carried on directly to Puck's ears. Quinn doesn't stir, Santana doesn't move – they're still asleep and Brittany is darn glad about it.

"About Santana?" Puck looks at her through the review mirror once more.

"Yes, about Santana. I know she thinks her toughness will get us through, but, what if something happens and she tries to protect me, and I lose her?" Brittany covers her face with her hands – Puck frowns, noticing the visible red on Brittany's eyes, and the soft glistening that only tells him she's about to burst in tears.

Puck is glad they got rid of the back seats, because he stretches his arm to touch Brittany's shoulder in comfort, knowing there wasn't anything to crash against.

"You won't lose her Brittany". Puck assures her, glancing quickly at Quinn before turning his attention back to Brittany. "We'll make it through. I can promise you that. Nothing and no one is going to stop us from getting to Alaska, okay?"

Brittany closes her eyes, but pictures absolutely nothing but blackness. Her happy thoughts were drained. Only Santana was her optimism now. "Okay Puck, if you say so".

Puck lets it go then. He nods and at the movement, Brittany slides back down next to Santana. Her arms go around her, her head nuzzled against the back of her neck.

"Hey Puck" Brittany calls, not concerned about waking Santana anymore. She was pretty sure she had been listening.

"Hm?" Puck calls from the front.

"What made you escape? _How_ did you escape?"

Puck's lips turn into a hard line and he chuckles darkly. His shoulders slump and he sighs.

"Men are not machines Britt. We are meant to live and make live, not die to fight over a war that is never going to be won. I used to like fighting – but not those things; those things are a never ending wave of walking corpses. If we fight, we're al going to die. And I realized it, realized that if I didn't escape I'd probably end up like one of them…" Puck pauses before his fingers lightly fidget against the steering wheel. "I don't know how I escaped B. All I know is that I decided to run – next thing I knew I was in a desert, with no one and nothing around me, with a stolen rifle and a shotgun. I ran Britt, I ran to save my life. I needed to come back… for _her"._ Puck looks at Quinn, still asleep with her head against the window. "I'm sure you understand".

Brittany nods, even though Puck couldn't see her. "I do".

Puck looks back at the road, assuming the conversation was over, but from the back, Brittany whispers into the silence again.

"I'd also give my life for her".

While drifting to sleep, Santana squeezes Brittany's hand, her forehead creasing into a prominent frown. Brittany kisses her shoulder in reassurance.

They only had each other.

That was clear.

* * *

><p><em>Brittany is walking, her footsteps resound in an echo against the sand. <em>Where did the sand come from?

_Her steps are timed, light. She's holding a gun in her hand, a gun she didn't acknowledge possessing, but she can't stop walking. It's a force that's driving her forward, and she has no idea what is going on, or why she can't seem to make her own feet stop their trajectory. Brittany squints her eyes and stares into the distance, but she sees nothing more than fog combined with particles of sand that cloud her eyes from the view. She wonders when they decided to come to this place, or why would there be fog in a desert. _

_The SUV is parked on the side, it's tires covered with sand. Puck is crouched, looking at something and shaking – Brittany can't see what it is and she moves towards the source. Her feet finally seem to be able to listen to her commands while she approaches Puck. _

_And she recognizes the familiar sound of crying. It's strange however, his sobbing should have been able to be heard in an echo along the empty desert, but only when she reaches to touch his shoulder does Brittany clearly hear him cry. And she knows now, why he was crying, why he was crouched over and shaking. _

_Buried on top of a pile of sand, blood smudges on the side – which made the sand stick together like those days when Brittany used to go to the beach and make a sand ball and throw them at Santana – was Quinn. Her hair covered her face; Puck's tears kept slowly dripping on the sand, making the wet circle bigger and bigger. _

"This is your fault!"

_Puck's voice is rough and startling and Brittany'e eyes widen. She takes a step back and raises her arms. "_What, I didn't do anything_!"_

"Exactly! You never do anything, that's why she's dead; she's dead because they all try to fucking protect you, because you are fucking useless! And that's why Santana is out there, still fighting for you".

"What?" 

_And she's running now; Brittany legs seem to have a mind of their own and are slowly taking her to the sounds that are starting to become clearer against the blindness of the desert. Santana's voice rings against her ears, pleading for her to come. _

_Then Brittany sees her, motionless on the ground, her hands covered in blood. Santana is mumbling her name over and over, pleading her to come close. _

_"Santana!" Brittany screams and drops on her knees, her hands cupping her face. "Santana, what happened?"_

_Santana coughs, shaking her head and stretching her arm to touch Brittany's face with her blood smeared hand. "You survived, that's okay. You're okay. I love you, Britt"._

_"No, don't…" But it's too late, Santana's eyes close and there's no response, no breathing. _

_Then she hears that distinct moaning. _

_Brittany closes her eyes and settles against Santana's body, wrapping her arms around the corpse that used to be her wife. Her sobs are the only thing that she hears now, and the tears that come down her eyes barely allow her to see the living corpses that are starting to surround her, that are slowly creeping on her to consume her flesh. She guessed dying was better than living without her. _

_Santana's body stirs though, and Brittany is hopeful. Santana survived. She's alive._

_"San… Santana we need to get out of here"._

_Then she meets her eyes; they're lifeless, staring at her with hate, not with the eyes of the woman she loves. Then she moans – the moan that was creeping on her just a few seconds ago._

_Santana snaps towards her neck…_

* * *

><p>Brittany gasps, waking up from her dream and sitting up on her elbows. She looks around, instantly trying to spot any signs of danger, but comes up with nothing. She doesn't even feel Santana next to her anymore and she panics, looking around for the only person who could calm her right now.<p>

She looks ahead and spots those familiar brown eyes staring at her through the review mirror. It was that loving gaze she had failed to see in her dream, that loving gaze that Santana only reserved for her.

"Britt, are you okay?" Santana's voice is thick with concern and Brittany sighs in relief, nodding and resting her head against the window of the SUV.

"I'll tell you later".

Brittany promises Santana, closing her eyes once more and sighing, hoping she'd be able to go back to sleep again.

In the front of the SUV, Santana is still looking at Brittany with concern in her eyes, her forehead is creased into a worried frown, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual.

_She's having bad dreams again._


	7. The Sheer Cold Panic

**A/N: So, hey - sorry for the delay on this chapter, but it wasn't until yesterday that my inspiration returned. This chapter is a lot more angsty than the others, so I hope you enjoy. And just so you know, the reviews DO give me inspiration cause they make me wanna write more. :P**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Santana<em>**

September 27th, 2015

**Time: **7:43 pm

**Location: **Somewhere in the Canadian Border

_Dairy Entry #7,_

_Fear; something you learn to overcome; something you really never get over. It's something you can pretend to lack but slowly consumes and haunts your existence. We all fear something; some of our fears come from deep rooted, childhood insecurities caused by irresponsible parents or authority figures; other fears come from emotional trauma, things we never want to face because they bring back memories we try to bury deep in our minds like a forgotten childhood toy. But then there are the residual fears, those we can forget for hours at a time but slowly come back to fill our heads and remind us why we are so terrified in the first place. Sometimes we fear things we never would've thought we would fear, things that seem so unreal that you are ready to wake up from the nightmare that haunts your every thought. A simple fear starts to host just a fraction of your life, and then spreads like a plague, like a dreadful cancer that eats every good blood cell in your body; you know you can't get away from it, but you still fight. That is the type of fear I suffer._

_I've always believed that fears were mere illusions of the mind, that if you thought hard enough and toughened yourself up, those fears would slowly fade and become nothing but buried memories. That was before I fell in love with Brittany; or realized I was in love with her. Since then, fears are what wrap around me and keep me from moving forward. Fear itself though, is what I fear the most. The metaphorical fear of fearing – it's what consumes me. In a moment of doubt, of panic, a moment where I am too terrified to respond, could ruin not only me, but the person I love and fear losing the most in this life._

_If I fear at the wrong moment, I might lose her._

_So fear itself is what I'm terrified of._

_We have all feared something at one point in our lives though, even if I have trouble admitting it; not only to myself, but to other people. I've lived a life of fears, of insecurities and problems that hindered getting to know myself as an individual; and I sit here today, writing this journal entry and I think back on all those years that I let myself be consumed by terror. I want to take the years back. As selfish as it sounds, in the midst of technically the end of the world, I think back at my past, at all the things I wish I would've done differently, the walls I should have broken and the people I should have never hurt. But I'm not afraid of who I am anymore, I'm afraid of what I would become if I didn't have Brittany to keep me sane._

_I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm still the same rabid bitch, but at least I'm not a bitch because I'm angry anymore._

_I want to be able to go back a couple of years and open myself up to all the people we've lost. I want to apologize to everyone I hurt._

_I want to go back and tell Mercedes that she's probably one of the best friends I could've ever asked for. I want to go back and apologize to Rachel and tell her how sorry I was for bringing her down; and that I understand now._

_I want to congratulate Kurt and Blaine on their bravery._

_I want to tell my parents I love them and my abuelita that, despite the fact that I miss her, it won't change the fact that I'm not sorry for being who I am._

_But most importantly, I want to stand in front of everyone I've hurt, in front of people who only knew one side of me, in front of all the people I should've apologized to and let in, in front of all the people who only tried to help me and say:_

_"Hi, I'm Santana Lopez, nice to meet you"._

_You can only wish though; that's all we have left._

The wind blows and bites you on the face; it's almost like a winter night in a hail storm. The breeze slaps your cheeks and makes your eyes squint, preventing you from concentrating. Each gush seems new, each one of them comes with their own potency and target. It's blinding, almost as if nature was not allowing you to see her face clearly. You hate Canada instantly. Brittany laughed about it, she said you jumped to conclusions too quickly and didn't give things a chance to get used to them. The worse part is that she couldn't be more right. You've always been quick to judge people, places, things – you never gave them a chance. But as the gushing, rapid wind bites your face again, you groan and try to focus on something else, something in the opposite direction of the wind.

There's still that hint of humidity lingering in the air, the smell of wet grass and the freezing cold surfaces that your body still doesn't seem to get used to. Not to mention wet surfaces. You hate wet things – save for one.

You sit back to back with Brittany, shoulder blades touching and elbows brushing against each other. You can feel her breathing and the occasional brush of her hair against your neck when the wind blows it back. She didn't hate bad weather; you've always wondered why. She said bad weather was just part of nature, a way of saying that there's more under the surface of the every day sunlight or the light drizzle of rain during the months of May. It's absolutely adorable. You love the way she describes it as a misunderstood child – it had its good days and bad days, but mostly bad days; Hurricanes were tantrums and Tornadoes were seethes of anger, but it had it's good moments, days were everything would be sunny and the rain would make a perfect day to stay in. The cold would make you cuddle; the sunlight would make you want to have fun.

It reminds you way too much of a person. You're not naïve enough to not know how Brittany was extending the metaphor.

But Brittany's witty lines and the seeming calm that lingers in the air despite the horrific weather is not enough to create a sense of normalcy. The very idea and reality of what's going on still lingers in your mind, haunting you slowly and penetrating your sanity. There isn't even a hint of conversation that will help you take your mind off things. You wonder why Brittany is so quiet, although you have a good guess – she hasn't been distant, just silent. It scares you.

"San?"

Finally, her voice; it vibrates through your eardrums and makes you sigh in relief.

"Hm?" You answer, shifting your weight and pressing your back further up against Brittany's.

"Have you ever thought about what would happen if one of _them _bites us?"

You freeze and your breath leaves your throat. It hitches, causing a slight hissing noise that doesn't pass Brittany's ears. She shifts her weight too, her fingertips finding yours and pressing against each other. The light touch sends a calming bolt of electricity through your body and you relax. You allow the mere presence of her to calm you; it's scary how much you need her.

You can't lie to her. It's impossible; she reads through you like an open book, so you spare yourself, and tell her the truth. "Yes".

"We'll become one of them, right?"

You nod; it's subtle, but Brittany has no trouble catching it. Brittany allows her fingers to slide in between yours but she doesn't close them – not yet at least. The hand hold lingers, waiting for the appropriate moment to close the gap.

"Does this have anything to do with your dream, Britt?" Your voice is shaky, even if you don't want to know her dream, at the same time you do. She needs you just as much as you need her; it just scares you to know that Brittany was having horrific images plaguing her mind and there was nothing you could do about it. You could only sit and talk to her, but you couldn't invade her dreams and tell her everything was going to be okay – the worse part was that everything was _not_ okay.

It's Brittany's downright honesty though, that throws you off guard.

"I don't want you to become one of them".

You flinch again, swallowing back the knot in your throat that makes your voice croak. You can't find words for a few seconds, so you pause and close your eyes, finally closing the gap between your fingers and Brittany's.

"I won't".

"You don't know that".

Your lips curl, your fingers holding tighter as your gaze falls to the ground. You watch the fragments of dead grass blow to the south and the biting cold of the wind bites you again.

"I'm not going to let that happen, Britt. I won't leave you…" Her blonde hair hits your neck once more and you look down at your twined fingers. The contrast of your skin with her own seems so fitting – it's always been like that. You're the yin to her yang; contrasting each other so beautifully that they fit in perfectly. At least, that's what you think. Brittany could fit with anyone, but you; you only fit with her. "If you don't leave me".

"I won't". She responds. Even if there is no eye contact and all you can see is the horizon and the setting sun, you know there are tears in her eyes. The sky turns blurry and you don't realize you're crying until the tears slowly drip onto the grass; some of them are carried away by the wind, others are caught on by the stripes of grass underneath your body.

There's another comfortable minute of silence until Brittany speaks up again.

"Do you remember when I convinced you to play in the snow with me that time in senior year?"

Your lips tug up into a smile, stretching your cheeks and feigning happiness for a second. She's the only one who can make you smile in moments of turmoil and not even the decaying grass and the gray sky can ruin this moment for you.

"You didn't convince me, you forced me".

"Lies." Brittany chuckles. "You totally went willingly".

"Yeah, you pouted".

"And that's called convincing".

"And you keep telling yourself that, sweetie".

She laughs. Her laugh is like a chorus of bells and you let your mind get drowned into the sound of her happiness. It's been a while since you've heard her laugh like this; it brings your own sense of happiness; you're happy when she's happy. You've always known that, but in times like this, the realization is more predominant; although you know the feeling won't last too long. So you savor it, peeling the layers and engraving the memory in your mind.

At least, until you can find another moment to remember.

* * *

><p>The street is clearing up now; the wind is no longer carrying the remains of dead grass and fallen leaves, or making small whirlwinds of dust and carrying them on until they disappeared in the distance. Instead, the sun finally starts to rise, illuminating the area around you; you don't realize you've fallen asleep until the rays hit your eyes and you have to snap them open. A small gasp escapes your lips and you reach for the gun clasped tightly to your belt. But there's no danger – you can feel Brittany pressed up against you and the soft breathing emerging from her noise. She's peacefully sleeping and you make no effort to wake her up, not when she was sleeping so calmly. You're pretty sure you wouldn't be able to carry on with a good night's sleep after a nightmare like she had; she's so brave.<p>

It takes you a while to wake up. Your eyes are heavy, lidded – tired from the constant state of vigilance you find yourself under. But people always said that the more you slept, the more tired you felt. You guessed that after sleeping so much after such a long time, the only thing your body wants is to recharge.

You've never felt the necessity to sleep anyways – at least not lately. Sleeping was a comfort now, not a necessity, so your eyes adjust quickly to the change of brightness and your brain slowly adjusts to the change in brightness of the scenery. The light hits your pupils causing your eyes to squint. It's not until your pupils adjust that you blink and make the two silhouettes that stand a few meters ahead of you.

Quinn's hair blows in the direction of the wind, Puck's riding jacket puffing out. Brittany would've found it funny; you're pretty sure she would've made fun of Puck for the way the jacket looked. Then you laugh; the soft, strange giggle vibrates through your throat. The wind carries the sound because Brittany stirs and Quinn and Puck turn to look at you. But your focus is diverted instantly to Brittany. Her shoulder blade brushes against yours, the sound of leather against leather travels and is died down by her mumbling; it makes you smile. It takes you back to the days when you would wake up next to her – the times of sanity, of safety.

You can recall it perfectly. Her eyes would always be closed; Brittany always tended to sleep more than you did. You always made no effort to wake her up; instead, you ran your fingers softly through her sides, letting your fingertips leave burning trails of a soft, loving touch on her skin. The feeling of her skin on your fingers is a memory you would never forget – it's been such a long time since you've had that kind of intimacy with her, and the mere memory of her skin against your own, the soft lips and the careful, passionate caresses invade your mind. It's no surprise that you feel a momentary craving to touch her again.

There's that pan of guilt though, that consumes you – you shouldn't be thinking about making love to her in these circumstances; you haven't allowed yourself that luxury.

"Santana?" Brittany's voice is groggy and heavy, indicating that she had just woken up.

"Morning, sunshine". You greet her and finally, after all the hours on watch you turn, letting your chin settle on her shoulder and your arms to wrap around her slim, toned waist.

"What time is it?"

You close your eyes and you don't even bother looking at your watch. It's probably dead – Brittany hadn't asked for the time in a long time. "Early".

She settles for that response, leaning against you and covering your hands with her own.

"Did you sle –"

"Santana! Britt!" Quinn's voice echoes through the clearing.

It's not the type of alarming voice you're used to. In fact, you're pretty sure Quinn is more confused than scared, but you still get up, helping a sleepy Brittany off the floor. She follows behind you; she's probably taking time to adjust to the sunlight because her hands are rubbing her eyes. The streets are dusty; as they should be. A few cars are scattered throughout the seemingly endless road, adding to the number of people who probably died trying to escape death; irony.

The wind has subsided, it's no longer biting and at least you are able to listen to your surroundings. You don't have to force yourself to open your eyes, the sky is clear, except for the predominant trail of grey smoke that spreads in the middle, almost like one of those planes that left a trail of smoke had come through. Brittany used to love watching those skid across the clear sky – she'd always wondered if it was possible to write her name with one of those. She said she'd leave that in her bucket list.

Then there's that damn knot in your throat again.

You really need to stop with the memories before they got the best of you.

"What is it, Quinn?"

Quinn takes a step to the side, allowing you to see the fresh trail of blood that led a path behind a pickup truck. Brittany stops walking and frowns, scrunching her nose at the sight.

"Is that… blood?" You ask. Brittany groans – you know she hates blood.

"Yeah, but it's fresh. I don't know, almost like some body was just dragged over there". Puck points; you finally notice how the trail of blood disappears behind the white vehicle.

"That's not human blood, though".

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks.

"It smells rusty; I mean, more than usual. Usually, animal blood has a stronger smell than human blood. Human blood – most of the time – cannot be smelled. If you get a god whiff out of that…" You point. "You'd notice that the blood probably belonged to some animal. I wouldn't be surprised to see a Mountain Lion up here".

Brittany scoots closer to you, reaching for your arm at the mention of a Mountain Lion. You chuckle, sliding your hand on hers and twining both of your fingers together. "Its okay, Britt. It's probably dead by now".

"Guys…" Puck calls.

"Guys!" Quinn this time.

You allow yourself to divert your attention from Brittany. "What?"

Then you see it; the nearly dead body creeping its way towards you, shuffling on the floor and dragging an item on the floor. It makes a brushing sound, picking up the spilled, fresh blood and smearing it on the object. The reason why you make no movement, why you're so hesitant to back off is because this isn't a regular, walking dead.

The small girl's features could still be planned out; just a small portion of her face was decaying, almost like she had been recently bitten. Her bunny slippers drag on the floor, making her move slowly, at a patient pace, almost as if she knows you're not moving. It's not only the fact that you're dealing with a small child that makes you freeze in place, or the fact that you were reaching for your gun – in fact, you had drawn no object to defend yourself.

She had long, wavy blonde hair up to her waist. Below the dead expression and the empty gaze, you could see that she had piercing, ocean blue eyes. The teddy bear she was holding was smeared in blood, but the hint of innocence behind the small toy doesn't give you the strength to draw your gun. But then you look at her shirt, you read what it says and you freeze. Your throat knots and your feet feel heavy, almost like you had been tied down with concrete blocks and someone was preventing you from running.

_Be a unicorn._

The girl approaches you, tilting her head and letting her hungry gaze fall on you. She's just about 20 feet away from you, yet, you don't move.

In her place you picture Brittany; you vividly imagine her shuffling lifelessly across an unknown road, thirsting for blood and flesh.

You see Brittany in her eyes, her innocence reflected despite the lifeless look.

Your mind races through memories and your brain begins to shut down, like a gradual light switch, those in which you could choose the intensity of the light.

"Santana!"

Brittany's voice wakes you, you reach for your gun, shoot, and the corpse falls on the ground with two loud thuds. Instead though, it's Brittany who's falling, Brittany who you just shot. Even if Brittany's actual hand comes in contact with your shoulder, your brain shuts down. The gun slides from your fingers, falling on the ground and vibrating until it settles after its momentum.

* * *

><p>"Santana!"<p>

"San"

"Baby, please…"

"Dude, just slap her on the face"

"Shut up, Puck".

"Santana, it's Quinn, come on, snap out of it".

"San… It's Brittany, baby, it's Britt…"

Brittany.

Your eyes snap open, you awake to three eyes looking at you with concern – green, hazel, and sky blue.

"Santana". Brittany calls again. "Look at me".

But you don't look at her; you can't. You get up from the ground and look at Quinn and Puck with an empty look. Your brain feels like it had just survived a tornado or as if someone had shoved your every fear and shoved them in a blender, only to pour them back inside your brain and forced you to let them consume you.

Brittany follows after you. "What's wrong, San? Please talk to me"

Again, you don't answer; instead, you open the back of the SUV and take off your jacket, shoving it inside.

You feared when you shouldn't have.

"Santana…"

She could've died. You saw her in the place of the child.

You won't be able to protect her like she deserved to be protected.

You're too weak.

You saw her fate.

You saw her fate because you let yourself fucking fear.

It kills you. It kills you to climb inside the SUV, close the backdoor and not say anything to her.

You only want to protect her.


End file.
